The True Killer
by TheArtist67
Summary: "You don't even know me," I replied quietly, "I could be a rapist." "Clarissa," my father hissed in my ear, taunting me, "he deserves to die." Stephen Herondale was dead on the front porch step. I watched in fascination as the red spread across my blue t-shirt. Was that blood? If it was, it was absolutely beautiful. I shivered as he leaned in, his lips meeting mine. Oneshot


"Clarissa," my father hissed in my ear, taunting me, "he deserves to die."

I looked in the innocent man's blue eyes. He was pleading with me. Not pleading with me to not kill me, no he already knew there was no hope, but to make it quick.

"Why?" I whispered my voice cracking. I stared at his son. "Why does he deserve to die?"

Valentine laughed. I couldn't call him my father anymore. He was a murderer. Or was I the real murderer? "Both him and his son, they both know too much."

"What do they know?" I asked, my voice wavering in my own ears.

"If I told you, you would have to die as well Clarissa," my father said, as if this was an everyday occurrence.

Thinking about it, this probably was.

"I won't kill either," I said stubbornly, standing up. "I'll die defending them."

The man under me shook his blonde head of hair. "You have much more life to live than I do, girl, don't waste it."

"I won't be a cold blooded killer," I snapped back. I looked at the blonde boy with a sly grin. He tensely smiled back, every bone in his tiny body ridged.

My fist swung out fast as lightning, catching my father in the jaw. He growled as he stumbled backwards, quickly regaining his balance.

I hit the ground, thanking my tininess as he just flew over me and sailed straight into the wall behind me.

He was out cold.

I untied both men. The boy that was surprisingly taller than me grabbed me in a hug. "Thank you Clary." I looked back into his shining golden eyes as I pulled away as if his heavy gaze didn't affect me.

"We haven't got much time," I said quickly, "Tell me, do you have a cellar?" Both Herondales nodded, military fashion. "Lock him in there. I'll run and get the Clave, Goldie can come with me."

The boy blushed but nodded.

We were out the door in a flash. The beautiful country of Idris haunted me as we hopped on the horses and rode across its green valleys. The hills seemed to stretch on for miles and the horses seemed to be going the paces of snails.

But we got there.

"Sir," I said frantically, running up the beautiful steps of the Guard. "We have a murderer. He's knocked out and in the cellar of the Herondale manor."

The man rolled his eyes. "Stupid kids. You'd think that one would get old."

"We're not lying!" cried the boy next to me, gripping onto the man's arm.

"You'd think that one would get old too," The man muttered.

"C'mon," I said gripping the boy's arm. We hopped back on our horses.

The time seemed to take longer getting back. As it turned out, no one wanted to help us. They called us foolish liars. Though I did only have the patience for three people before I commanded the boy back on his horse.

When we did get there, Stephen Herondale was dead on the front porch step with Valentine looming over him.

"Go into the woods," I murmured into the boy's ear. "Kill Valentine if I can't handle him or he tries to grab me and take me home." The boy nodded, slipping into the shadows, shock all over his beautiful golden face.

Valentine looked up at my crunching footsteps. "Clarissa," he hissed. "It's your turn."

I cried out as he tugged me towards him, his fingers tight. He punched me in the face until I gripped his arm and flipped him over my head.

His arm tripped me as I pranced around him and before I could even see, he was on top of me, his knife flying down. A loud siren went off in my ears-was that my scream? I didn't even know.

The cold blade touched my skin but before it go any deeper, a flying force knocked into Valentine and the knife drove an inch into my skin.

I watched in fascination as the red spread across my blue t-shirt. Was that blood? If it was, it was absolutely beautiful.

The boy was wrestling Valentine onto the ground, a knife in his hand and I watched in excitement as the blade hit Valentine's chest before my vision slipped away.

The lights were bright, too bright. I moaned and turned over before hissing in pain at my chest.

"Careful there," said a beautiful voice. I recognized it as the boy's. Except now it was sad and cracked. I'd never heard his voice happy.

I turned back to see the boy sitting there. "Tell me Goldie Locks, what's your name?"

He looked up, his adorable golden eyes full of pain. "Jace."

A smile broke out on my face, completely and totally fake. I sat up slowly to realize I was only in a sports bra. I really didn't care one way or another. "That's a pretty name you know."

The boy stood up and I could see him, completely clean. He had shiny blonde hair and the lightest shade of amber I'd ever seen for eyes. He looked about seventeen and was about 5'8. He looked angelic.

"You're a pretty girl," he said, his fingertips lightly touched my blushing cheeks. "And there's no reason to blush, because it's absolutely true."

I didn't know what he was really speaking about. My father told me time after time I was hideous with stupid carrots for hair and the dullest eyes ever and I looked like a ghost with my pale skin. I was the opposite of beautiful.

"Fiery, wild, red hair, shining emerald eyes, and smooth creamy skin," he whispered, speaking almost to himself. "She's beautiful."

He opened his eyes, his face even closer to mine than before. He held out a hand and I cautiously took it.

"Clary," Jace whispered in my ear, the same name he called me in the manor. "I'm not going to hurt you."

His fingertips ran lightly up and down my arms and I shivered as he leaned in, his lips meeting mine.

Electricity shot through my body as he ran his hands through my tangled hair.

He pulled away, looking into my eyes, an emotion I'd never seen before shimmered in his eyes as well as a broken look that was left by his father's death.

"Clary," he murmured, "I love you."

"You don't even know me," I replied quietly, "I could be a rapist."

He laughed softly. "I don't think so."


End file.
